


Will You Be Around (Are You Always Down)

by Avery_Kedavra



Series: Soulmate September [7]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety, Dreams, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Lots of it, Nightmares, Underwater, Virgil & Remy are queerplatonic, Water, i still don't know how to tag that, maybe? a very brief panic attack?? but brief and not described, sappy fluffy self-indulgent nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26477716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avery_Kedavra/pseuds/Avery_Kedavra
Summary: Soulmates meet in their dreams every night. But there's never enough time to say everything they need to say. So Remy and Virgil let a lot of things go unspoken.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Sleep | Remy Sanders
Series: Soulmate September [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907623
Comments: 2
Kudos: 65





	Will You Be Around (Are You Always Down)

**Author's Note:**

> It’s late, just take the whimsical fluffy self-indulgent little fic before I collapse from exhaustion (and yes I know it’s like nine that’s not the point.)

They like to meet underwater.

Of course, underwater is different for both of them. Remy likes light blue with silver streaks, a gentle flow, so it’s closer to sky than water but still feels cool to the touch. Virgil likes the purple darkness of an ocean trench, teeming with shadows of creatures just out of sight. They take turns. Sometimes Remy cheats and adds feathery grey lights to Virgil’s ocean, and sometimes Virgil cheats and darkens Remy’s sky just a few degrees. Neither of them mind as much as they pretend to.

Underwater should drown them, but it’s a dream, so they never have to breathe.

Of course, sometimes, Virgil panics and starts swallowing water and wakes up, or Remy gets confused and takes a breath and wakes up. Both of them hate it when that happens. They only get so much time together, after all.

Dreams are quick. Quicker than starlight, quicker than sound, quicker than a raindrop. And they like each other--a lot, though neither would ever admit it--so time flows by even faster. There's never enough time to say everything they need.

So they let a lot of things go unspoken.

“I went to the beach yesterday,” Virgil says, hair drifting in the water.

“Was it sandy?”

“Yeah, duh. Most beaches are.”

“Then that sounds like a literal nightmare.” Remy pushes up his sunglasses. He always dreams himself with them on, and his favorite leather jacket. Virgil dreams himself in a purple patchwork hoodie and bare feet. Their clothes never get wet.

“Sand isn’t a nightmare,” Virgil argues.

“It is! It’s, like, tiny rocks, right? Like, either be rocks or be dirt. Pick one.”

“You’re enforcing the binary.” Virgil smirks. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Hush, hon, you know I’m right.” Remy waves a hand. “Beaches, y’know? Not my thing.”

“I didn’t invite you, did I?”

“You should’ve. I make every party better.”

Virgil laughs. “You just said you hate the beach!”

Remy lolls his head back and grins. “I like _you_ , though.”

_I love you,_ Remy doesn’t say. _So much._

_I love you too,_ Virgil doesn’t say back.

“I guess I’d get some clout from bringing my soulmate around,” Virgil admits. “I’m nineteen--think I’m supposed to have you glued to my hip by now.”

“I’m a free spirit, babe,” Remy says. “You can’t tie me down.”

_I’m not ready to meet you,_ he doesn’t say. _Not yet._

_Someday,_ Virgil didn’t assure him. _Whenever we’re ready._

“I can grab you, though.” Virgil kicks up and grabs Remy’s wrist, tugging Remy deeper into the water. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re gonna sleep and never wake up.”

“Pretty sure that’s murder, girl.”

Virgil smirks. “You think I care?”

“Well,” Remy decides. “I guess you’ll come down with me, then.”

“What--”

Remy smirks and pulls Virgil into the depths of the ocean, and neither of them resurface for a very long time.

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

No time to say it, no courage to say it, no reason to say it.

They keep saying it, though. Silently. Hoping the other hears.

They carry it with them all day. A little secret, deep in their chest. Neither of them have ever told anyone else about the dreams, even though soulmates were common, and they’d been meeting since they were little kids. It just feels like it would burst the bubble--like they’ll forget each dream the moment the words left their tongue.

Every day is too long, every night too short.

Remy likes diving into the local pool and closing his eyes. It almost feels like an ocean, but then his lungs would burn, reminding him that in the real world, he can’t stay breathless.

Virgil likes sleeping. Dozing off in the middle of the day, head on his desk, and nobody else in his college classes are listening so he blends in. But Remy is never there in the day, so his dreams are normal, scattered and shattered and scratched at the seams. Remy is Virgil’s anchor and without him, Virgil is just asleep, at the mercy of the tides.

Virgil has nightmares when Remy isn’t there.

Remy’s almost always there, but sometimes he’s not, not right away. Sometimes he’s late because nobody can be punctual with sleep. Sometimes he’s not there at all and Virgil doesn’t realize what he’s missed until he wakes up, staring at the ceiling, his dreams incorporeal when he tries to remember them.

And the nightmares come when Remy’s not there--thick and smoky and spiraling Virgil into late-night vigils as he calms his breathing and tries to think of something other than shadows.

On really bad weeks, Remy isn’t enough. Virgil has to spend all his energy on keeping them out.

This is a bad week.

He doesn’t know if Remy notices. He hopes not. Remy would either worry or just brush it off. Or be mad, if Remy’s upset that Virgil ruined a perfectly good dream. Virgil would be upset in his place—they have this place to themselves, a bubble, a world of their own. They always agree to never talk about personal stuff. Remy says he doesn’t want to talk about the bad stuff, and it was unspoken that Virgil couldn’t either, that Remy doesn’t want to hear it. Night is their escape and Virgil can’t bring the shadows with him.

It makes him distracted, though, trying to push them out without waking up. And Remy does, eventually, start to notice.

“Have you been sleeping?” Remy asks.

“‘Course I have,” Virgil says. “I’m with you, aren’t I?”

“Just checking.” Remy floats closer and ghosts his fingers over Virgil’s cheeks. “You’ve got some serious eye-bags.”

“That’s the eyeliner, dumbass.”

“No, it’s not.” Remy’s lips tighten. “You…good?”

Virgil hears the unspoken hesitancy. _Please be good. Don’t ruin this._

“Yeah,” he lies easily, the words slipping from his mouth like water.

The shadows are murky beneath him. It’s Remy’s world, and Virgil’s leeching the light from it bit by bit, and the light grey watery sky is turning to a dusky, ugly mush.

Virgil’s already ruining it.

“It’s late,” he tries. “Should I…wake up?”

“What, is my company not good enough?” Remy scoffs. “If the world can’t let you wake up when you wanna, that’s its problem.”

So Remy wants him to stay. That should make Virgil feel better, and it does, in a twisted way that also makes him feel _worse_. The shadows curl in his stomach and he remembers his last nightmare—teeth and claws and glowing eyes. He was frozen for minutes afterwards. He wonders if he might freeze the water around them by accident, trapping them both in this dream.

“You’re acting fishy, hon.” Remy raises an eyebrow. “Anyone giving you shit?”

“Nah, i’d give it right back,” Virgil says. “And I’m not acting fishy—there aren’t any fish.”

“I could change that.” Remy flicks his fingers—Remy loves the drama of creating, this world all of his own, crafting dreams from sand, and Virgil would be lying if he doesn’t think it’s just a little bit cute—and a fish skids between his fingers, quicksilver, gleaming with a light tan sheen. It whips around Virgil’s ankles and skids away just as quickly, as if sensing the nightmares broiling under Virgil’s skin.

It skates into the darkness and Virgil feels uncomfortably that it’s not going to come back.

It’s light around him and Remy. Beneath them, it is very, very dark.

“Remy?” Virgil asks hesitantly. “I—I wanna wake up now.”

“What?”

“I’ve got a test,” Virgil says desperately. He probably does, actually—he doesn’t have a tendency to remember tests. “Could I—go?”

“Of course,” Remy says, but his voice is quiet. “Go ahead, babe.”

“Right.” Virgil tries to remember how to wake up. But he’s never tried to force himself out of a dream before, and Remy is watching him with unreadable eyes, and the nightmares are shattering his skin, and he’s afraid that he’ll leave and they’ll stay behind and strangle Remy in his sleep.

“Virgil,” Remy says, painfully softly.

“I’m fine!” Virgil blurts out.

Remy stares at him for a long moment. “Girl, you spontaneously yelling that you’re _fine_ kinda says the opposite, tbh.”

“I’m fine,” Virgil repeats, shoving Remy away. It doesn’t do much, since Remy is floating, so he just drifts a few inches away from Virgil. Virgil still feels like shit for it. He opens his mouth to apologize, but the words don’t come up.

Remy’s worried. Remy’s lowering his sunglasses and the world is dimming and Virgil is paddling frantically against a sudden current. Usually, it’s easy to float—easier than walking. Usually, he doesn’t need to breathe.

Now, he _can’t_ breathe, and he is sinking, and he doesn’t want Remy to have to watch him fall—

“Virgil!” Remy swims over to him. “Is—I can change the dream—you’re not—“

Virgil frantically tries to push Remy away from him. The nightmares will get Remy too, otherwise, and Virgil couldn’t live with himself if he got Remy hurt—

“Virgil.” Remy reaches out and grabs Virgil’s hand. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not—“ Virgil looks around at the darkening water. Shadows skate on the surface, dipping claws beneath the waves, scraping at Virgil and grazing his skin. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s happening?” Remy slips a hand under Virgil’s chin and turns it around. This is weird. Remy’s not a touchy person. But he’s holding Virgil so carefully, as if Virgil is ice, one blow from falling apart.

Virgil is sinking, and Remy is sinking with him.

“Nightmares,” Virgil stammers out. “It’s nothing, I’ll just figure out how to wake up—don’t let them—“

“Nightmares?” Remy asks. “Can I kick their ass?”

Virgil stares at him for a few seconds. Doesn’t he get how serious this is? “They’ll hurt you!”

“This is a dream, honey.” Remy looks at Virgil with sympathy. “They can’t.”

“But—“ Virgil looks at Remy, the way he glows in the silvery look, deep brown eyes and little smile and the best thing Virgil’s ever had, something Virgil doesn’t always believe he deserves but will do his best to be worthy of.

“I’ll kick their ass,” Remy says again.

“I don’t want—“ Virgil shakes his head. “I’ve got it.”

“Are you?”

“I’m sinking,” Virgil admits. “I don’t want you to get—“

“I told you, I can’t get hurt.”

“You can lose sleep for a week.”

Something flashes over Remy’s face. “Oh, that’s the reason for the bags, isn’t it, girl?”

Virgil looks away.

“Well.” Remy looks like he’s thinking this through. “They can only hurt you if they get to you, right?”

Virgil looks back at him.

“So.” Remy leans forward and hugs Virgil fiercely around the shoulders. “They’ll have to get through me.”

Virgil floats in the darkness, eyes wide, unable to believe that Remy is actually doing this. But Remy doesn’t let go. Slowly, Virgil reaches up a hand and wraps it around Remy’s waist.

Remy slips a hand into Virgil’s hair and presses a kiss to his forehead. “You’re doing great, honey.”

Virgil lets out a shuddering gasp and throws himself into Remy’s chest, curling into it, letting Remy pull him closer. Remy is cold, a slippery fish, a cool current in the water. Right now, though, he’s the most comforting thing Virgil’s ever felt.

“It’s okay, girl,” Remy whispers.

They sink together. The shadows darken. And Remy is there, holding Virgil, and Virgil can’t wake up but he doesn’t need to.

“I’ve got you,” Remy promises. “We’re going down together.”

“You sure?” Virgil asks.

_I love you,_ he doesn’t say.

“Yeah, babes.” Remy smiles. “I’m pretty sure,”

_I love you,_ he hears right back.

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

_Do you love me?_

Remy disappears sometimes.

Remy has a long shift and pops a few caffeine pills and can’t sleep the next night. Remy is bingeing the final season of a good TV show and loses track of time. Remy just has good ol’ insomnia and ends up with a bunch of warm milk and lavender, hating existence entirely.

Virgil always forgives him. Virgil says there isn’t anything to forgive, but Remy can see that Virgil values their time together more than anything. So it’s selfish for Remy to be doing what he’s doing, but nonetheless, here he is.

Avoiding Virgil. His soulmate, his best friend, his possible-partner—although they’ve never clarified, it’s kinda an unspoken thing, and Remy has the insecure little itch that he’s misidentified it, sometimes. Maybe he should clarify. But Virgil likes things to stay unspoken, and Remy doesn’t want to voice the possibilities, for fear of them disappearing into the waves.

He loves Virgil. He hopes Virgil knows that.

Even if right now, he’s avoiding Virgil.

And possibly always, he’ll be avoiding Virgil.

He can’t even blame Virgil. Virgil wants to meet up in person. Virgil is tired of—no, not tired of, except _yes_ tired, Remy can hear the unspoken irritation—just talking in water and dreams. Virgil wants to find Remy and have real days that aren’t slippery and don’t end too soon.

Remy wants that, too. So, so much.

He’s also terrified.

Dreams are strange. Dreams are wonderful. Dreams are just fantastical enough to make Remy be comfortable. In real life, he’s a stumbling insomniac with a coffee addiction and a dead-end retail job. He never even went to college like Virgil did. He knew he wasn’t made for books, and he hasn’t really found out what he _is_ made for, yet. Maybe just mediocrity.

Remy makes himself look better in the dream world. Just a bit. It makes him feel icky, but he doesn’t really see the harm in editing his frankly terrible haircut, erasing a few pimples here and there. Virgil’s never commented. Virgil just shows up with a bedhead and a scowl and eyebags, and he still manages to look adorable.

Remy’s really far gone. Tbh, it’s annoying.

Yet another reason to avoid Virgil—because he doesn’t like what Virgil does to him.

Avoiding sleep is surprisingly easy. He skates by a few nights without sleep at all, then has naps in the middle of the day. Virgil and him are in the same time zone. There’s no reason for Virgil to be asleep at noon.

Then he finds himself floating in a cloudy lake, Virgil next to him, his arms folded.

“Why are you asleep at noon?” Remy blurts out.

“Periodic naps,” Virgil says. “I’ve been trying to catch you.”

“Catch me?” Remy repeats.

“Why are you asleep at noon?”

“Because…” Remy searches for a good alibi. Lying is harder in dreams, partly because of the mind-melding aspect, and partly because Virgil is very there and very cute and very distracting. “Studying.”

“You don’t…go to college?”

“I’m taking a night class.”

Virgil raises one eyebrow, televising that he’s seeing through all of Remy’s bullshit.

“Ugh, something’s loud,” Remy drawls. “I’ll wake up and deal with it, gimme a sec—“

“No, hey!” Virgil grabs Remy’s arm. “You’re not getting out of this convo. Not today.”

Remy gives him a glare. Virgil glares right back.

And Virgil pulls them deeper into the water.

“Babe, where are we doing?” Remy looks around as the water turns silver, then grey. It looks like spider silk, unraveled around him. “Go too deep, and we’ll never wake up.”

“That’s a kid’s story,” Virgil says, though he looks unsure. “Besides, it stops you from waking up on me.”

“Holding me hostage,” Remy says. “Classy.”

“If you’re gonna avoid me, I gotta take drastic action.” Virgil pulls Remy closer until their faces are inches from each other. And Remy’s not a kissing dude, but _damn_ , he’s soaking in the sight of Virgil. The dips of his nose, the quirk of his mouth, the gleam of his eyes. Maybe he looks like this in real life—a tear in the world, a slash through the dream, an anomaly Remy can’t help but focus on. Virgil shatters the world around him and glows in the shadows beneath them, and Virgil is beautiful, and Virgil deserves so much better than—

Oh.

Oh, that’s the whole problem, isn’t it?

Goddammit, his brain’s working against him.

“Rem?” Virgil asks. He must be worried. He only uses that nickname when he’s worried. “What’s up? Did I—“

Unspoken worry: _did I do something wrong?_

Virgil has never done anything wrong.

“Of course not,” Remy says as softly as he can manage. Which isn’t very, at the moment. “My mind is just being a bitch, it’s fine.”

“Oh, mood.” Virgil still looks concerned, though. “What’s up?”

Remy rolls his eyes. “Speak no evil, Virge.”

“You can’t just let _everything_ go unspoken. You’ve got to get it out.” Virgil bites his lip. “I mean—only if you’re comfortable. I get if you aren’t, you might not want to talk with me, but I…I really miss you, and—“

“I don’t want to meet you in person!” Remy blurts out.

Virgil blinks. “Yeah? I—I know?”

“Then why do you keep bringing it up?”

“I don’t!” Virgil stares at him. “Rem, I really don’t! You don’t want to, so we don’t! I’m fine with that!”

Remy stares back at him. Because he’s been _sure_ , these few weeks, that Virgil has been dropping hints—

He starts to giggle. “Of course.”

“What?” Virgil somehow manages to look even more alarmed. “Remy?”

“Of course I made it up.” Remy shakes his head, laughing harder. “Of course I was so goddamn insecure I figured you hated me and then I probably made it come true by ghosting you for a week and—“

“Remy!” Virgil swims closer and slips a hand in Remy’s. “Remy, I have no _idea_ what you’re saying.”

“I’m sorry,” Remy says. It’s the kind of thing he usually lets go unspoken. It burns his tongue and lips as it slips out, but he feels so much better with it in the open.

“What for?” Virgil asks.

“For ghosting you? Girl, what—“

“I’m not mad.” Virgil shakes his head. “Remy, I’m really not mad. I’m just worried for you. What’s up?”

“I’m not—“ Remy’s eyes are stinging. Great. He hopes his sunglasses and the water hide them. “You’re—you deserve—“

“What?” Virgil prompts.

Remy looks away. “I’m not.”

“Not what?” Virgil doesn’t wait for an answer. “Rem. C’mon. You’re—you’re everything, I don’t—“

“No, I’m not!” Remy snaps. “ _You_ are. I’m just—some poor shmuck you got stuck with. I can’t be…enough. For you.”

“Rem,” Virgil says softly. “No. C’mon.”

“I know, I know, it’s BS.” Remy wipes harshly at his eyes. “It—y’know, that stuff piles up, though. Hard not to think.”

“Well, I’ll have to fight back, ‘cause your brain is an ass and I wanna fight it.” Virgil glares at him. “You’re _awesome_ , and you’re—god, you’re so much more than _enough_ , don’t you get it?” Virgil shakes his head and looks pleadingly at Remy. “You’re so _much_. You’re _everything_. You make _me_ more and I couldn’t _ask_ for more. I—“ Virgil chokes on his words. “You’re cool. Is what I’m trying to say.”

“You’re cool too,” Remy chokes out, tears falling down his face. Virgil wipes them away without any trace of irritation.

_I love you,_ he doesn’t say.

He hugs Virgil around the waist and says _I love you_ with everything inside of him.

_I love you too,_ he hopes Virgil says back, as Virgil wraps his arms around Remy and pulls him close.

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

“What are we?” Remy asks. “We’ve never met.”

“Your decision,” Virgil points.

“I’m not complaining.”

“Besides, I think we _have_ met.” Virgil shrugs and curls closer to Remy. The water undulates around them, a cushiony sky, clouds skimming at the bottom and waves curling at the top. “This counts.”

“They’re dreams,” Remy argues. “They can’t hurt us--they can’t help us--”

“They can if they get to us.” Virgil smirks. “You got to me, Rem. Good job.”

“I’m honored,” Remy says.

_I love you, I love you._

_I hope you love me._

“What are we?” Virgil asks another day, hesitant.

“Soulmates?”

“Loads of people are soulmates.”

“You’re right,” Remy says. “You’re...you’re everything.”

“You’re everything, too.”

_I love you, I love you._

_I don’t know how to say it._

“What are we?” Remy asks, taking his turn, on a night where his mind won’t shut up.

“Together,” Virgil says.

“But we’re _not_. It’s a _dream_.”

“Dreams can be real if we want.”

_I love you, I love you._

_Is it unspoken? Should it be?_

“What are we?” Remy murmurs into Virgil’s hair as they drift together through the currents.

“I dunno,” Virgil hums. “What do you want us to be?”

“Partners?”

“Partners.” Virgil nods. “Sounds good.”

“We’ve never met.”

“We will, someday. When we’re ready.”

_I love you, I love you._

_I’d love to hear it back one day._

“Were you serious?” Virgil asks. “About...partners?”

“Yeah,” Remy admits. “Yeah, hon.”

“That sounds nice.” Virgil looks up and smiles. “I always figured we were, I just--we never said so.”

“Unspoken,” Remy says.

“Yeah.” Virgil shifts. “I think we have to get some of that stuff out, though.”

_I love you, I love you._

_Do you know that?_

“You’re amazing,” Remy says. _I love you._

“You’re a jerk,” Virgil says. _I love you._

“Glad to see you again, girl,” Remy says. _I love you._

“It’s better with you,” Virgil says. _I love you._

“I’d like to meet you,” Remy says. “Soon.” _I love you._

“If you’re comfortable,” Virgil says. “Soon.” _I love you._

_I love you, I love you._

“I love you.”

Remy stares at Virgil, who flushes.

“I--” Virgil stutters. “We--I just thought we--”

“It’s okay,” Remy says immediately. “Why all the big fuss?”

“We’ve never _said_ it,” Virgil says.

“We haven’t,” Remy agrees.

“I love you,” Virgil whispers to the water.

Remy cups Virgil’s chin and kisses his forehead. “I love you too.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You sure?”

Remy smirks. “I’m going down with you, hon.”

Virgil grins back. “Sounds fantastic.”

_I love you._

“I love you.”

_I love you._

“I love you, too.”

Yeah, it worked okay unspoken. But it’s nice to hear it, to know this isn’t a dream, that they can wake up to a world with each other in it. That they’ll fall together, all the way down.

Some things can go unspoken. It doesn’t hurt, though, to make sure.

_I love you, I love you._

They meet every night underwater, and there’s never enough time, but it’s okay. They‘ll have all the time they need. And they have each other.

And that’s everything.


End file.
